


Tell Me Everything

by shinypidgey



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Anal, Dom/sub Play, Enthusiastic Consent, Height Differences, Hope’s Peak AU, M/M, Nagito Komaeda eats ass, Ouma not Oma, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Rope Bondage, and he loves it, safe sex, the crowd goes wild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 16:18:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16622267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinypidgey/pseuds/shinypidgey
Summary: Nagito would do *anything* to learn more about Kokichi Ouma’s talent.





	Tell Me Everything

Nagito was determined to find out the secrets of Ouma’s evil organization.

Ever since he found out that his Hope’s Peak underclassman was the supreme leader of a shadowy organization, Nagito’s curiosity was piqued. While he was always impressed by the ultimate talents of his fellow students, (with a fervor some of them described as “creepy,”) most of these skills were immediately visible to the eye. Kokichi Ouma, however, spoke in his own language of half-truths, provocations, and outright lies.

Not to mention, the small supreme leader with flashing violet eyes and flipped-up purple hair was undeniably attractive…

Nagito began by lurking. A little weird maybe, but that suited him just fine. After all, he was sure Ouma wouldn’t be caught dead with somebody like himself. However, his covert excursions yielded no salient information. He spied on Ouma talking the Ultimate Swimmer into a game of tag. Ouma petting the Ultimate Breeder’s hamsters with apparent fascination. Ouma taunting an increasingly exasperated Ultimate Astronaut by insisting that the Earth was flat. 

And, once or twice, he was  _sure_ he caught Ouma’s eye glinting back at his, just for a moment.

Some of the leaders’ antics were entertaining, but all his reconnaissance netted were Ouma’s juvenile pranks. Certainly, none of it held any clue to the secrets of his evil organization.

Finally, after exhausting his other options, Nagito tried asking directly. He approached Ouma during lunchtime, where the leader was sitting at a table chatting with the younger class’s timid Ultimate Detective, Saihara: a concerned-looking student in a newsboy cap. As expected, Ouma was doing all of the talking. However, he paused expectantly when Nagito came over to stand awkwardly near their table.

“What do _you_ want?” Ouma asked accusingly.

“Ouma!” Saihara exclaimed, horrified. “Komaeda-san is our upperclassman!”

“It’s all right,” Nagito said casually, making it clear that he took no offense. “Class rankings don’t matter when it comes to trash like me.”

Nagito swallowed; now was his time to act. “Ouma-kun, I was wondering if you could satisfy my curiosity about something—” 

“Get lost,” Ouma cut him off smoothly. Saihara looked like he wanted to crawl under the table. 

But Nagito was undeterred. He was used to people talking to him like this; after all, it was what he deserved! He began again. 

“It’s about your talent. I’m honored to attend the same school as somebody as important as a Supreme Leader, but I can’t find out anything about your talent, or for that matter, your organization. I was hoping…” 

Nagito trailed off. His classmates had thought that his “stepping stone” speech had been laying it on a bit too thick. That could come later.

For now: “If you would give some of your time to someone like me… Could tell me about it?”

Ouma turned to him with a malicious grin. “Why? Are you looking to join it?”

Well, _that_ was a no-brainer. “If my pitiful assistance would help you achieve even greater things, than yes. Of course!”

The supreme leader seemed satisfied by that answer. “Any self-respecting person would be lucky to join DICE. Even,” he wrinkled his nose at Nagito, “somebody with no self-respect at all, it seems! But... I can still use you.”

He beckoned Nagito closer. Nagito had to lean considerably further down to get to Ouma’s face level, but he figured mentioning that would destroy any progress he may have already made.

“Meet me after school,” Ouma said in a low murmur, so only Nagito could hear. “If you’re worthy enough to join, you’ll know how to find me.”

“But that’s enough for now!” Ouma suddenly switched back to his normal speaking voice and Nagito, who was still leaning over, jolted at the sudden pitch shift. “I’m busy and you should go. We can play later, Komaeda-chan.”

Saihara gave him an apologetic smile, and Nagito turned on his heel toward the door. It sounded like he suddenly had plans today.

***

It wasn’t hard at all to find Ouma after school. Weeks of stalking (Nagito liked to think of it as  _tracking_ ) had made him all too familiar with Ouma’s typical routine. Maybe he’d find him in the dining hall eating an after-school snack. Or maybe in the library, reading a dirty book. Or perhaps he’d just be out in the courtyard being insufferable to his classmates. The younger class certainly seemed more patient with Ouma than Nagito’s class was with him.

He tails Ouma as usual and when the Supreme Leader enters the school dorms instead, he realizes today is going to be a break in the routine.

Nagito knocks on the door. No response. He tries the doorknob and discovered the room is unlocked. Inside, Ouma is seated on the edge of his bed, legs dangling.

“I’m going to deduct points for that,” he says playfully. “When a member of _my_ organization walks into an unfamiliar room, they always check for traps.”

“It won’t happen again,” Nagito says, making a show of looking around for traps. Some odd decorating choices perhaps, but nothing  _too_ dangerous looking.

“Yes,” Ouma continues. “Members of my organization must have particular skills. Most importantly,” he says, a finger to his lips, “they need to be able to keep a secret.”

“Ah, of course!” Nagito says, brightening. It isn’t that Nagito wants to share Ouma’s aspirations with the world. He just wants to do his part to assist. “Whatever you tell me about your organization, you can definitely count on me to keep it a secret, Ouma-kun.”

Ouma frowns theatrically. “If only I could be so sure…”

Nagito is close to a discovery, he can feel it. “Just tell me how I can convince you.”

This was apparently just what Ouma wanted to hear, because, at Nagito’s words, the leader’s mouth splits into a truly horrifying smile. 

“Members of my society,” Ouma says, “need to be tough! They  _can’t_ crack under pressure. Wouldn’t it be a pity if I told you my secrets and then you spilled it all after some light torturing?”

Nagito has a fairly high pain tolerance, but he guesses that somebody who lies as much as Ouma would prefer to see it before he believes it.

“To be in my gang is to be  _highly_ in demand,” Ouma continues. “A lot of people would love to capture one of my minions, who number in the thousands by the way! That’s why they all have secret identities. Except for me, of course,” Ouma’s eyes flashed confidently. “It wouldn’t do for the boss to show weakness in front of his subordinates. Besides, I’d like to see anyone try to get their hands on me.”

Nagito thinks, not for the first time, that he’d like to get his hands on the leader’s lithe body, though probably not in the way that Ouma is imagining.

But that’s not going to happen today, Nagito thinks, especially after Ouma wastes no time explaining the impending scenario to him. With his permission, Ouma is going to tie him up and see whether he’s able to make Nagito crack. Only after he proves he is tough enough will Ouma trust him with the secrets of his organization. 

“So… how about it? Are you willing to be tied and roughed up to prove you’re worthy of my secrets?”

“Of course!” Nagito says, a little too eagerly, apparently, for Ouma to believe him.

Ouma narrows his eyes, twisting his playful smile into a sinister expression.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Nagito affirms. “What’s getting this pathetic body tied up compared to receiving Ouma-kun’s amazing secrets?”

Ouma winces almost invisibly at “pathetic.” Should he not have said that?

The leader clarifies once more. “Then say it. Tell me what you want.”

Finally, Nagito understands that Kokichi is looking for his unmistakable consent. He feels a warm glow. To think that anyone could care about the feelings of someone like him!

“Ouma-kun, I want you to tie me up.”

If Nagito is being honest with himself, he isn’t entirely averse to being tied up on principle. He found out almost by accident on his class trip, when he’d lost a penalty game and some of the other students had chained him up. Just recalling that time makes him shiver, and not in a bad way. Ouma doesn’t have chains, but he’s got this red rope (“I borrowed it from a classmate, not that I owe  _you_ an explanation,” Ouma had unhelpfully explained), and dexterously knots Nagito’s hands behind his back. Next, he pushes Nagito down into a kneeling position and binds his feet together. Finally, he ties the knots that bind his hands and feet to each other.

Ouma stands over him, surveying his handiwork.

“Well, don’t  _you_ look comfortable,” he taunts.

“I’m not  _un_ comfortable,” he hedges. He’s not ready to tell Ouma that he sort of has a thing for bondage. But Ouma can probably tell something is up. There’s a tension in the air that wasn’t there before, when Nagito had just walked in.

“You look almost  _too_ comfortable,” Ouma adds. “Tell me, have you been tied up before?”

“Well…” Nagito can feel his cheeks warming. “Actually—”

“Just kidding! I don’t care!” Ouma suddenly cuts him off with a sing-song tone that isn’t particularly cheery. He actually looks kind of disappointed that Nagito doesn’t seem to be more flustered. Nagito almost feels like he’s done something wrong, though, then again, he usually feels that way. The less familiar feeling is the confusion. Does Ouma  _want_ him to start caving under pressure? If so, wouldn’t that be the opposite purpose of this exercise?

“If this isn’t enough to throw you off, then I’ll try making you a little more uncomfortable. Hmm… do you think you could keep that calm look if I stripped you naked?”

“Why not?” Nagito shrugs, with what he hopes is the correct amount of casual.

Ouma assumes an impish grin. “In _thaaat_ case, tell me what you want.”

It occurs to Nagito that Ouma is planning on asking for his permission every step of the way. If that is what Ouma wants, Nagito is more than happy to comply.

“Ouma-kun, strip me naked.”

It turns out to be easier said than done, considering Nagito is still tied up. Ouma pulls his T-shirt up over his head, exposing his chest and leaving it bunched around his wrists. Nagito lifts his hips to help Ouma more easily pull down his jeans, exposing his plaid green boxers. He stops there. Even if Ouma plays up his talent, he’s still a teenager. It’s probably too risqué even for the leader to strip him completely naked. Though, if Nagito pointed that out, he’s sure Ouma would deny it or worse, kick him out. So he doesn’t.

“For somebody as creepy as you are, you’re not half bad looking,” Ouma says, surveying the bound, kneeling man at his mercy. Nagito opens his mouth to respond but then, “Oh, that was a lie. You’re super weird. But maybe you can still entertain me?”

It’s around this time that Nagito finds himself getting visibly turned on. The prolonged bondage, compounded by Ouma’s snide words, is causing heat to shoot straight to his groin.

He wills himself to calm down. He already knows he’s a sick fuck, but Ouma doesn’t. This is supposed to be a gauge of Nagito’s ability to not crack under pressure, but what the leader doesn’t know is that it’s actually just arousing him. Even though this particular circumstance isn’t the one he’s fantasized about, he has admittedly daydreamed plenty of times about getting Ouma alone. The very Ouma who has just detected the state of Nagito’s arousal, violet eyes catching on his boxers with a devilish grin.

No, it doesn’t seem like Ouma is going to politely ignore this one.

“Well, what do we have here?” Ouma asks like it isn’t completely obvious. He stands over Nagito with an appraising grin. “Is somebody enjoying his torture a little too much?”

Feeling a tinge of real embarrassment, Nagito doesn’t have a reply at the ready. What can he say? But when Ouma runs his fingertips over his bare chest, Nagito outright moans, eliciting a giggle from his tormentor. “You liiike this, don’t you?”

“You caught me,” Nagito says with no small amount of self-deprecation. “I know, right? Leave it to someone like me to not even get tortured correctly.”

“No, stop that,” Ouma shuts him down. He’s pouting almost like a child.

“I’m sorry?”

“No, don’t be sorry either,” Ouma grouses. He stoops slightly, leveling his face with Nagito’s. “Isn’t this  _exciting_? Tell me.” 

Nagito blinks slowly, taking in the sensations. “Yes, it certainly is… that.” 

Ouma’s eyes narrow as his smile widens. “Would Komaeda-chan like to have even _more_ fun?” 

Would Nagito ever!

“Yes. But, before we continue, I have a confession to make,” Nagito says, fidgeting in his bonds. “It’s not just your organization that has my interest. It’s you, Ouma-kun.” Nagito is sweating. He’s said this much, so he might as well keep going. “I want to know lots more about _you_ —”

“Who doesn’t?” Ouma breaks in, faking a yawn. “If you’re interested in me, that simply means you’re more ordinary than you look. But just so y’know, I’m not into that mushy stuff.” 

Even before Ouma finishes speaking, Nagito can tell he’s lying. Though he may put on his little boredom act, Nagito can see the gleam in Ouma’s eye reignite, sharpening his confidence within the bounds of this bizarre scene they’re acting out. For the first time, Nagito realizes that Ouma may be a frequent liar, but he’s not a particularly good one. Right now, Nagito can see right through him. 

Ouma leans down once more, a taunt surely at the ready, but before he can say anything, Nagito thrusts forward in his bonds to meet his lips to Ouma’s.

At nearly six feet to Ouma’s 5’1”, Nagito is certainly tall enough to reach. He just lifts his hips a little off of his knees. Perhaps due to surprise, Ouma doesn’t immediately break the kiss, a warm, chaste press as gentle as it is at odds with the strange situation at hand: Nagito bound and nearly nude, Ouma fully clothed and standing imperiously before him. 

Ouma goes completely still for a moment. But as always, he recovers quickly and resumes the game, settling the mask that is his playful expression back into place. He presses his shoe directly on Nagito’s clothed bulge, making him moan, and scolds him, which Nagito hates to admit, makes him even more turned on than the physical contact.

“How dare you,” Ouma says right over Nagito’s face, pitching his voice low and dangerous. “Does a dog like you think you’re fit to be on equal terms with a supreme leader? However,” he purrs, grinding his shoe more sharply now as Nagito continues to whine, “Let’s see if you’re worthy of becoming my pet.” 

He tilts Nagito’s chin up for another kiss, this time on Ouma’s own terms. It’s fierce, hungrier than the last one, and when Ouma dips his tongue inside to part Nagito’s lips, Nagito opens his eyes in surprise. It’s not that he didn’t think Ouma was that daring, just that he didn’t expect him to be quite so enthusiastic. Could Ouma really see something in someone like him?  

Ouma breaks the kiss, trying to compose his slightly labored breathing. “Stop staring, it makes you look gross,” he says, and the flush in his cheeks makes him almost look shy! Nagito has no idea what he did to deserve this kind of amazing luck.

But this rare glimpse of vulnerability doesn’t last for long. Ouma’s face quickly turns mischievous again. “I have an idea,” he says, pulling off his checkered scarf. He rolls it up and wraps it around Nagito’s eyes as a makeshift blindfold.

It doesn’t completely conceal his vision at first, leaving gaps around the bridge of his nose where he can still see, and Nagito helpfully lets Ouma know that it needs to be tightened. Ouma laughs mockingly. 

“How obedient! Tell me, are you stupid?” But he tightens the blindfold all the same. 

Now Nagito can barely move any of his limbs, and he can’t even see. He only knows Ouma is still there because of the shadowy figure he can still glimpse through the scarf and the audibly elevated speed of Ouma’s breathing. It sounds like Ouma is getting excited, too! Getting blindfolded was a blessing in disguise because otherwise, he might have missed that.

“What are you grinning about, you creep?” Kokichi says accusingly. “Don’t you know you’re still being tortured?”

“Sorry, Ouma-kun.”

Out of nowhere, Ouma tweaks one of his nipples and Nagito yelps. To experience pain in such an intimate place doesn’t feel bad to him exactly, but thanks to the blindfold he never saw it coming.

“I don’t want to be called ‘Ouma-kun’ by someone like you. That’s what my  _friends_ call me,” Ouma sneers. “ _You_ can call me Master. Sound good?”

“All right,” Nagito says, and immediately jolts as Ouma pinches his other nipple. Would Ouma think he was sick if he admitted he’d neglected the title to get punished on purpose?  
  
“Try again.”

“All right, Master,” Nagito says, playing along this time. 

“Now,” Ouma purrs, “we can have some real fun.” 

Ouma must be very close to him. Nagito can feel his breath ghosting on his earlobe as he speaks. “Y’know, it was pretty presumptuous of you to kiss me. Buuuut, it’s no surprise you’re hungry for the body of a Supreme Leader. Don’t worry. I’ve got just the solution for how a debased whore like you can satisfy me.”

Nagito nods, hungrily. He might be drooling but he doesn’t care.

“Surely someone like you has _tons_ of experience eating ass, right?” 

Wow. Did Ouma really just say something so dirty? This isn’t a dream, right? 

Nagito swallows thickly. Truth be told, he has zero experience in that department, but that’s not really what Ouma wants to know. 

“Of course I’d be willing to… do that,” he tries. The blindfold helps to embolden him, but it’s still difficult to talk about something like this! 

“That’s what I expected my dog to say,” Ouma replies. “Now beg for it. Beg me to eat my ass.” 

“Ou—Master, if my body can be of any service to you, let me try.” 

Ouma’s foot is suddenly on his bulge again, and Nagito moans in arousal and surprise.

“You can do better than that,” Ouma taunts. 

“Master, please,” Nagito struggles to form the words in such a dirty request. “Let me eat your ass.”

There’s no immediate reply, just a rustling of fabric. It occurs to Nagito that Ouma is getting undressed, and it kills him not to be able to see it. Right now, Ouma’s petite body is nude, directly in front of him. He wonders what his dick looks like, and his own twitches with interest. But he soon calms down, comforted by the knowledge that there’s no way such an undoubtedly gorgeous sight is worthy of Ouma’s dog.   

Bound and blindfolded, Nagito has no idea what is coming next. But soon, two delicate arms—Ouma’s nude arms! he realizes excitedly—are pulling him by his shoulders, forward and lower.

Finally, his nose brushes against Ouma’s warm flesh. He smells sweet and a little soapy even down there, and Nagito wonders hazily if Ouma had prepared for something like this.

“Now, service your master.”

Nagito doesn’t need to be told twice. He pushes his tongue forward into Ouma’s entrance. His exploratory licks are rewarded with a soft, seemingly genuine sigh from the leader. Nagito takes that as permission to double his efforts, swirling his tongue up and around, occasionally delving within. Ouma tastes like skin and salt and the slight bitterness of soap. It’s not the taste that is lighting Nagito on fire; it’s the sounds, the ever-heightening moans that the Supreme Leader might not even realize he’s making. 

Nagito wishes he had even one hand free, to press Ouma’s buttocks apart for more access, to squeeze one of his warm thighs, to brush along the length of Ouma’s dick—not to mention his own neglected erection. But all he has is his tongue, and he uses it with vigor.

After some time, Ouma seems to recover himself and nudges himself out of Nagito’s reach. 

“What a good pet I have!” Ouma praises. “You’re such a mess for me. You really should see yourself like this.”

Nagito can imagine. From his chin to his belly, he’s flat against the floor. His knees are bent to meet his feet to his arms, still bound together behind him. And now he’s  _definitely_ drooling.

“Y’know, I think such a good performance is deserving of a reward,” Ouma announces. “How would you like a chance to make us _both_ feel good?” 

“I’d like that,” Nagito says with difficulty, considering his jaw is against the ground. By now he knows that if he doesn’t tell Ouma exactly what he wants, it won’t happen. Fortunately, Nagito has very little shame to begin with. “Let me make you feel good… Master.” 

“Great,” Ouma says, pleased. “But first… I need to get you out of these ropes. Don’t be too upset, you pervert!” 

He begins by unfurling the blindfold, and Nagito gets his first look at Kokichi Ouma naked, that is, outside of one of his fantasies. He looks skinnier without his clothes on, noticeably smaller than Nagito himself. Sometimes his outsized presence makes Nagito forget the considerable size difference between the two of them.

Ouma unbinds Nagito’s ankles from his wrists and from each other, so he’s finally able to flex his aching legs. At last, he wriggles out of his jeans, which had been forgotten somewhere around his ankles, and his boxers (since Ouma isn’t wearing any, he feels a little overdressed with his still on). Still seated on the floor, he leans back against the bed, patiently. He wants to reach out and touch Ouma, but his arms are still not his own.

“Oh, did you think I was untying everything?” Ouma says gleefully. “Like I’d trust a dog like you to keep your hands to yourself.”

This whole time, Nagito realizes, Ouma has kept him at arm’s length—pun intended. It seems like less of a kink thing and more of a protective thing. Maybe Ouma likes being in control because he doesn’t want to get hurt?

But that’s too much thinking because right then, Ouma pulls a condom out of nowhere, brandishes it with a look that shoots straight into Nagito’s libido, and rolls it onto Nagito’s dick. Nagito gasps at the pressure; he’d been so entranced by Ouma’s body, his delicate frame and slim hip bones and what lay in between them, that he had barely paid any attention to his own increasingly desperate need. Now that Ouma’s hands are upon him, he feels just how much he ached for the contact. 

“Enjoying the view?” Ouma teases. “Well… you can do more than just look.”

That’s when he straddles Nagito’s newly freed lap and lowers his still-dripping entrance onto Nagito’s dick. Nagito is quickly enveloped in a velvety warmth, and he has to will himself not to come right then and there. He survives, but barely. And then Ouma starts to  _move_.

Nagito tries to match his rhythm, but Ouma suddenly rolls his hips down, pinning his own. The sensation is almost unbearable. “Right now you’re my toy,” Ouma warns, “and toys _don’t_ move.”

Ouma’s cheeks are flushed, his eyes are lidded, and his dick is leaking precum. He’s plainly as aroused as Nagito is, and every inch as much of a horny teen as his upperclassman, but he still hasn’t given up on his authoritative act.

“Look at what a lewd face my pet is making,” he chides, keeping a rhythm as he slides up and down Nagito’s dick. “Guess this is your _lucky_ day, huh?” It’s clear he’s losing his composure if this is the kind of low-hanging-fruit witticism he’s going for. 

If Ouma is handsome when he’s cool and composed, here, with his face flushed and flipped hair in disarray, he’s downright beautiful.   

“Ouma, I’m getting close,” Nagito warns, as coherently as he can manage. 

“Bad… dog,” Ouma pants. “If you want. To come. You gotta ask me. For permission.”

“ _Master_ ,” Nagito stresses. “Please. Let me come.”

And with an autocratic nod, Ouma lets him. 

Nagito shuts his eyes, riding the waves of his climax. He’s definitely thrusting into Ouma now, but the leader isn’t stopping him anymore.

Ouma reaches his own hand between the two of them, and it doesn’t take long before he’s coming, too, in hot stripes on Nagito’s belly. Nagito had figured that somebody with as much of a flair for the dramatic as Ouma would have loud orgasms, but his silent, shuddering climax is just the opposite. 

Ouma slumps against Nagito’s chest for one delicious moment, feathered hair tickling the hollow of his throat. Then he quickly recovers himself, sitting up naked and shameless. He raises his hips to extract Nagito from himself, examining the spent condom with boyish glee. 

“Wow, you came a lot!”

Already, Ouma’s showman persona is back in place. Even though they’ve just had sex, it occurs to Nagito that he’s had very few glimpses of the real Ouma. And for that matter… 

“Ouma-kun, you never planned to tell me about your organization from the start!”

Ouma giggles. “Komaeda-chan knows me so well! Yeah, that was a lie. But…“ he gestures enticingly at his body, “I don’t think you could say you got nothing out of this.”

“I can’t,” Nagito admits. He allows himself, just for a moment, to relax in the afterglow. “You were wonderful, Ouma-kun. Somebody like me doesn’t deserve this.” 

Ouma looks seriously pissed. “Would you  _stop_ talking like that? Like you actually think you’re trash?”

“But I—”

“Listen, Komaeda- _san_ ,” Ouma said, finally addressing him like the upperclassman he is, “when you talk like that you insult me. How does it look if someone who has received the Supreme Leader’s attention still thinks of himself as worthless?”

“Ouma-kun.” A realization dawns on Nagito. “Could it be possible that you… care about me?”

Ouma turns his head and mumbles something that sounds a lot like, _I guess I’m interested in you, too._  

It’s all the encouragement Nagito needs to reach toward Ouma to pull him into an embrace. Only, when he tries, he remembers one small problem.

“Ouma-kun, could you untie me?”

“Hmm… maybe if you beg.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by two things. Most obviously, that one scene in the V3 post-game Ultimate Talent Development Plan when Nagito wants to know about Kokichi’s organization but doesn’t have enough money, and Kokichi says, with a finger to his lips, “Oh… there are other forms of payment besides money. Still wanna know my secrets?” 
> 
> And the other thing: after I finished 2, my friend asked me what I thought of Nagito and I said, “He seems like the kind of guy who would eat ass at the slightest provocation, like if you told him it was for Hope.” And voila.


End file.
